


Soleil

by AlphAOmegA151



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Birds, Character Death?, Deliberately avoiding use of names, Gen, Giant birds, Giant birds with killer teeth, How does one characterize, OOC abound, Soleil - Freeform, Squint hard enough and you'll find the ships you want, Squint precisely and the symbolism will flood your sinuses, Tense is FUBARed, WHY DO I TORTURE MYSELF, and the readers, then puts a section on etymology straight after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphAOmegA151/pseuds/AlphAOmegA151
Summary: Based off of the Vocaloid song Soleil (Travolta-P)Ludwig, Feliciano and Kiku try to survive in a post-apocalyptic world where the dead return to haunt them.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song Recommendation and Inspiration: Soleil (ft. Kagamine Rin) by Hitoshizuku x Yama  
> Original: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gx8wJAi-WnY  
> Hetaloid Cover (N. Italy): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hATiSd1HvRY  
> English Cover (Lollia): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umo7rH3K5iM
> 
> Other inspirations: The YouTube comments on the above videos. Seriously.

Sometimes I wish the world didn’t work like this.

Kiku told me once that this is simply the “natural culmination of the negativity a person has felt in their lives”... whatever that means, and that it was “only natural” for humans to turn into large and winged bloodthirsty monsters upon their deaths. That doesn’t change the fact that this makes every day a struggle to keep living.

We fend off at least three crows per day. It’s no easy feat, especially for a group of two children and a teenager, but I would say we’re doing quite well, since we aren’t dead yet. We find enough food and water to live, and we have a viable means of defense against the crows. I’m sure we’re faring much better than most of the other people alive in this world - not that there’s a lot of them, but still.

Sometimes, when he gets tired and depressed, he holds us close and repeats to us that he wishes for us to not need to suffer like this, and that we could have a real childhood like the children from millennia past, whatever childhoods were like back then. 

I would rather wish that crows didn’t exist.

* * *

He says he found you and me in some temple-like structure when we were mere babies. He isn’t certain as to what the temple was for, and he didn’t know how anyone could have gotten their hands on enough resources to build a sturdy shelter, much less a full-blown temple, which is strange, considering that he knows a lot of things and can make some pretty accurate guesses to questions he doesn’t know the answer to. What he can tell us is that there was destruction and gore everywhere but the altar, which was where we were tied to when he found us. He thinks it might be a crow attack, but that doesn’t explain why we weren’t killed along with the rest of the temple’s inhabitants. That’s a mystery I guess we’ll never solve.

Unlike me, you remember most of your time in the temple. Whereas I only remember indistinct images and sounds, you can recall names and faces. You tell me that things were strange and incomprehensible - People called us by names that we were not, and at times people would bow to us and even grovel at our feet, yet at other times they approached with sharp blades and let our blood flow.

I’m just glad you have fewer scars than I do.

* * *

You tell me about carefree times, when we did not realize the truth of the world and what we were. Times when we chased each other around on the cold white marble around the altar. Times when we talked and talked and talked and ended up lulling each other to sleep. Times when we smiled together, blissfully unaware of pain and suffering.

I do not remember things as clearly as you do. I only remember flashes of warm hazel against cold white. I remember the chill of metal and marble against warm skin. I remember murmurs of “soleil” and “Xolotl”. I remember the monotonous, unending drone of prayers and chants. I remember warm embraces and a hand in my own. I remember a raspy but kind voice that called me “Luddy” and “bruder”. I remember eyes a shade so red it made even crows flinch. 

I do not know what has become of those red eyes.

* * *

You told me that they called you some long name that you could never remember, even though your name was quite long as well. They called you "Quetzal-something-something”. I still don't quite see the point in such a long name, especially as you have two of those already. Names were for identification, for warnings and precision. That’s why we call you Feli and not Feliciano or Veneziano or “Quetzal-whatever”. “Feli, duck!” is much easier and faster to say than the alternatives.

“Xolotl” or “Soleil” are shorter names. Those are useful. I don’t like them though. Compared to “Kiku” or “Feli”, they sound almost impersonal and frigid.

I refuse to consider “Soleil” as an alternative for your name.

* * *

He tells me afterwards that names aren’t just for identification. He says that names carry meaning, that names are the basis of a person’s first impression, and that it becomes a representation of its bearer.

He tells me that his name simply means chrysanthemum. It was a symbol of nobility in the long-lost civilization of the past, but that’s not where his name came from. It was, apparently, just because there were a few blooming near where he was born, and “chrysanthemum” is far too much a mouthful for anyone to say, so he was named “Kiku” instead. He joked that his namesake was to be a symbol of death, adversity, lamentation and grief, and an omen of suffering for as long as he lived. You became saddened for some reason, and he never made that joke again after reassuring you that he was just joking at his own expense, and that his name actually represents honesty and positivity as well as nobility, even if it was traditionally a girl’s name.

You cheered up after that, and you asked him what your name means. He told you that it stems from an old word which means happiness, liveliness and luck. I think it’s a fitting name for a cheerful and optimistic person like you.

You asked him what my name means. He hesitated, and told you that he wasn’t sure, but he remembers hearing the name from a travelling musician, who told him tales of composers and musicians of times long past. Appeased, you let out a tired yawn and fell asleep moments later.

This time, I ask him what my name means. He tells me it means “famous warrior”. It’s not a meaning I like, and it doesn’t represent me well, but it’s a much better name than “Xolotl”, and I won’t complain about it. He consoles me and tells me that it’s a good, strong name. 

_ It’s better than mine, _ goes unspoken between the two of us. 

* * *

Later, I ask him what “Xolotl” and “Soleil” mean.

He tells me that doesn’t know about the former, but he does say that the latter is quite similar to an ancient word for “sun”.

He asks me why I asked about those particular words. I tell him that I don’t know, either.

* * *

To stay alive in a world where the dead are out for your blood, combat skills are vital. With his tutoring, we quickly reach a level where we can reliably defend ourselves. Even without my whip or knives, I can stall long enough barehanded against a single crow for him to provide assistance. You are a lover, not a fighter, yet you can snipe at crows with your bow and arrow with extreme accuracy when push comes to shove. 

Whenever we fight, there’s always a glimmer of pride and something else I can’t identify in his eyes. If I had your empathy, perhaps I could tell. 

Normally, he is mild-mannered, soft-spoken and level-headed. Yet, when it comes to combat, he is ferocious and violent like no other, while somehow maintaining his usual grace. It is thanks to his might that you know how to take out crows with the flailing of a stick, and it is thanks to his elegance that I can swing my whip around as fluidly as I do. You wonder sometimes if he secretly hungers for violence, with how often he jumps into our battles and deals the most devastating and lethal blows for us with a skilful swing of his katana, before resheathing the deadly weapon as if nothing had happened.

Between the three of us, any crow that dares attack alone will be dead in moments, and murders of them can be dispatched in minutes, albeit with some difficulty on our parts. Even if I didn’t say it out loud, there was an inherent sense of safety, of security, of confidence - as long as we stuck together, we would only die on our own terms.

I believed we could stay this way for a long, long time.

I was wrong.

* * *

It was supposed to be just another normal day - fending off crows, scavenging for food and seeking shelter. We did not expect to encounter a fourth murder of crows that day, and we were most certainly underprepared for it. Faced with an overwhelming number of adversaries and with little to no resources, our only option was to run. But what use was running, against enemies that were far faster with the advantage of flight? As expected, we didn’t get very far.

He had known this from the very beginning, and, in an act of what was either selflessness or stupidity, pushed the two of us into the dense undergrowth and ordered us to “keep quiet and do not move”, leaving him to face almost a dozen of crows alone.

His death was imminent, and all three of us knew it. The best I’ve ever managed to do is take on and kill two crows at once, and even someone as skilled as he had limits. Despite the advantage of a blade and experience on his side, he definitely could not take on six crows on his own, much less double that number.

I covered your eyes.

After a sickening snap of his spine, our dear mentor and friend was no more.

The harbingers of death, cruel as they were, satisfied with the carnage and death, let out triumphant cries and flew away, leaving behind his body and bloodstained katana.

My left hand stayed firmly on your eyes. You tried to pry them away in vain.

Negativity, so dense it was almost palpable, rose from his shadow in a nauseating yet hypnotic pattern that was impossible to look away from. His body was transmogrified horrifically, and what was once the body of our dead mentor was now another one of our predators. The only thing that marked it as “not entirely monstrous” was the fact that it looked back at the bush they were under before it took off to the skies.

You wrestled my hand off of your face just in time to see it fly off with the katana’s sheath on its back.

You shakily walked over to all that was left of him - his precious sword - and gingerly picked it up, as if afraid it would shatter in your hands at any moment.

Perhaps, if I had not covered your eyes, you would have been able to tell me what that emotion in its eyes was.

* * *

We never use that katana. We know how to, we just… don’t.

We could never live up to the grace of its wielder.

* * *

Thankfully, no such incident happened afterwards. I’m not sure if I could live with myself if anything happened to you.

We were by no means safe, but we were alive. Even in death, he protected us through the skills he passed onto us. The next few years were uneventful, dreary, and spent in mourning for him. 

Over the years, we matured, as people did. We gained more scars, experienced more, learned more. Yet, no matter how we tried, we couldn’t leave his shadow. We just couldn't get past his death, it seems.

* * *

One day, a deadly miracle fell from the heavens.

I’m not sure whether to be grateful that it ever happened in first place or to wish that it had never happened at all.

A crow descended from the sky. We (well, I) drew our (my) weapons, preparing for what should have been a simple fight - and it would have been, with our improved combat prowess, larger amount of experiment and stronger physical strength, especially against a lone crow. As the monstrosity approached, you caught a glimpse of something that inverted our perspective of it.

You called for me to resheathe my hunting knife, and I gripped it tighter, asking you why.

“Look at its back! That’s- thats-!”

On its back was the sheath of his katana.

Oh, no. No, no, no. There was no way this was possible, yet it was impossible to deny what I saw with my own two eyes.

The crow that was once Kiku dove towards us.

Could I truly bring myself to kill him?

I clenched my knife tighter, as if it would help steel my resolve.

You were faster, though.

As the crow descended, almost gently, you shot out from behind me like an arrow streaking through the air. I reached out to stop you, but it was too late - you were within range of the crow’s attacks, with no visible weapon in hand to defend yourself.

I couldn’t bring myself to watch.

A few seconds passed in silence.

I turned my head back, only to be greeted with a bizarre sight.

The crow made no attempt to kill you.

You were hugging the crow. 

I’m not sure which one was more unbelievable.

For a moment, the world stayed still, as if there was nothing wrong with a predator  _ not _ killing its prey for a change, as if the world was as stunned as I was. But only for a moment.

Then the peaceful facade broke.

It started to struggle out of your grasp, as if coming to (or losing) its senses, and you had no choice but to hold on tighter. As you closed your eyes, your expression morphed into one of quiet determination, and the unexplainable happened.

Somehow, light emanated from your being and spread from your fingertips. I’m not sure if you were aware of it happening, but somehow, the gentle rays purged the darkness from the crow’s feathers. Within seconds, the once pitch black crow was bleached to white - not the cold white of the temple walls, but a different, warmer shade, as strange as it sounds. Even though I did not know what a crow’s smile was supposed to look like, I could clearly tell that this one was truly glad, as if freed from a large deal of pain. Even the sheath on his back seemed to regain its past sheen. No longer was the being before us a monster - even if he was changed in appearance, this was, without a doubt, our once-lost friend.

After what seemed like an eternity, you reopened your eyes to a miracle, looking as confused as I was. At that moment, the two of you were surrounded by relief and euphoria over reuniting with a friend you thought you would never see again. I wanted to be happy too, but I couldn’t bring myself to be.

Miracles didn’t come without a cost.

I didn’t miss the way the darkness pooled around your fingertips and stained your once unmarked hands with inky, ominous black.

The sounds of wings flapping above us only served to further cement my point.

It seems that the cost of this particular miracle might be higher than we could afford.

Death descended.

* * *

There were hundreds of crows swarming around us, or rather, you. They had seen your miracle and, not knowing or caring about its toll on you, demanded to have a slice of it. Of course, these crows could have easily decimated us without any effort, but that was not what they were here for. They were here for your salvation. Once again, I could not stop them, or you, in time.

You, ever selfless and loving, didn’t hesitate for even a second as you stretched your saving hands towards your mortal enemies. Unlike them, you clearly knew of the aftereffects of using your newfound powers, as you rubbed gingerly at your blackened digits. Yet, that did not hinder you in your self-sacrificial, self-imposed mission to liberate the crows.The crows crowded you, and pushed him and I out. For every crow you freed, their shadows gathered and sunk into your flesh, yet you did not seem to mind, forcing out a smile for an audience that did not care. For every crow that lightened under your touch, another three, darker than the first, would take its place, making your task seemingly endless, while the cleansed ones simply took to the skies as if they owed you nothing.

I tried to claw through the masses, but that only seemed to aggravate them into crowding tighter around you.

He noticed your gradual darkening as well. Unfortunately, so did the crows. They did not care for you - only for a chance to be freed from their pain. In their haste to be purified before you expired, they began to fight amongst each other for your attention. In their haste to get to you, in their desperation to keep you to themselves, they lifted you into the air along with them. You became their ball in a high-stakes, high-reward game of catch and keep away, depending on the colour of the crow holding you. Either way, it was obvious that this would not end well. It was only natural that we took to the skies, with me riding on his back, to free  _ you _ from the selfish talons of the demons.

(At that moment, as much as I despised the very notion of it, you, burning yourself out to deliver light to friends, strangers and enemies alike, had truly become their Soleil.)

We gave pursuit. In response, they went higher. So did we. Had this been any other situation, I would be awed - terrified even - by the dizzying, almost poetic heights we were reaching and the small, insignificant world below us. Breaking through the clouds, we finally had a chance to rescue you.

Or so we thought.

It was far too late. By the time we reached you, you had already become shrouded in near-tangible wisps of negativity, leaving almost no skin untouched by the darkness. The crows seemed to come to terms with their dwindling chances of salvation, and below us, the large clouds of murky feathers began to dissipate and return to the wilderness.

The lone crow holding you, content with its transformation, spared not even a second glance for you as it let go and left you to plummet to the merciless ground and to your doom. Exhausted and drained from your mission, you didn’t - couldn’t - even try to stop or slow your fall. You just let it happen.

I would not let that happen.

Regrettably, that was not within my jurisdiction.

He was already tired from flying so fast and so high - pushing him even further would only be pushing all three of us to our deaths.

I had to do something. And I did.

I did the only thing I could.

I leaped off of his back and somehow caught up to you in your free fall. Above us, he let out a weak, tired chirp, as if encouraging us in spirit to make up for what he could no longer manage in body.

I held you close, tight as I could, as if it could delay the inevitable, as if I could take your darkness, as if I could relieve your pain, as if everything would magically turn out to be okay in the end. As if we would all be okay. As if I could afford to create one last miracle.

(I could not let you die.)

And that was just what I did.

A surge of pain flooded my limbs, Darkness encroached into even the deepest recesses of my flesh. Even my vision was starting to get blurry. But it was all worth it, for through the haze I saw the source of the blackness - you. The accumulated despair within you receded, leaving your being untouched once again.

(It was my turn to be your Soleil for once.)

A surprised caw came from above us. I paid it no heed.

If I were you, I could have taken your darkness with little to no consequences other than a dusting of coal over my fingertips. However, I was not you, and I did not have your pure, kind heart. Mine was the heart of a monster trying to be human. The darkness had a far larger impact on me. 

And thank whatever higher power for that.

What you could not do, I did in your stead. Similarly, what he could not do, I did in his stead.

From my back burst a pair of large wings, as big as those of a crow. I slowed us to a stop, and pulled us back up for a moment, to check on him, before we descended - me for what would possibly be my last time. Feathers, black as a night before sunrise, surrounded us two.

The constant pain within me intensified, and I could do nothing but glide to the ground with you still unconscious in my arms. Perhaps, if you knew you could see the ethereal sunset from above, you would wake up in a few moments, just to take in its beauty.

We hit the ground roughly, with you above me. the sound of flapping reached my ears. I glanced up and saw him. You would be safe with him, and that was all I needed to know.

Before darkness enveloped my vision completely, I saw your calm, serene face. I felt the warmth of your breath on my neck and felt your heart beating against mine, and I knew everything would turn out okay.

I let go.


	2. Appendix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References and Explanations.

  1. For the purposes of this story, Feliciano and Ludwig are around eight or so at the beginning (no older than ten no matter how you look at it). Kiku can be anywhere from fourteen to nineteen.
  2. Anyone who isn’t Feliciano, Ludwig or Kiku can be a cultist, a crow or both at any given point of the story.
  3. The temple is a relic from the ancient past. Why is it still standing? Godly intervention and plot reasons. Their beliefs are more Aztec style, complete with human sacrifice and cannibalism and the like, and some of their gods are worshipped. Whether the gods looking after the temple are the “real” Aztec gods or some other higher power is unknown.
  4. Feliciano is a representation of Quetzalcoatl, which is also why he’s mentioned to have been called that before. In Aztec mythos, Quetzalcoatl is the god of light, wisdom, wind, etc. (read: sugar, spice and everything nice) and is associated with the sun/sunrise and the like, as well as having the power to resurrect people (according to wiki)
  5. Ludwig, conversely, is a representation of Xolotl, Quetzalcoatl’s antithesis and twin. In Aztec mythos, Xolotl is the god of lightning, monstrosities and death, and is associated with the underworld and sunsets (read: emo). Xolotl guides the souls of the death to the underworld, and also happens to be “a master transformer”, according to Wikipedia. 
  6. The difference in what the two gods embody is also the reason why Ludwig has more scars than Feliciano, and is also the reason why he has amnesia. Ludwig is the representative of Xolotl (and by extension, death), whereas Feliciano is the representative of Quetzalcoatl (and by proxy, life). In a world where everyone wants to live and no one wants to die, it’s natural for them to treat the embodiment of death much harsher than that of life. Hence, Ludwig is subject to more injuries/violence and abuse than Feliciano. Somewhere on the way, head trauma probably happened and ta-da, plot-convenient amnesia that serves little purpose. Feliciano’s cuts, on the other hand, were only the bare necessities for blood sacrifices of the highest degree. Thanks to his status, he’s worshipped as something close to a god.
  7. Lovino would have fitted the role of Xolotl as well, actually. Why did I put Ludwig instead? I wanted to see Axis fluff instead. Yeah, great reason, I know. If you want Lovino to be in this one, you can either substitute him into the role (as most of the story doesn’t mention his name) or imagine him as the (dead) representative of Xolotl before Ludwig (either him and Feliciano or him and Antonio, as Quetzalcoatl).
  8. Soleil is French for “sun”, and is also the name of the song that inspired the whole fic in first place, which is why I didn’t use the Italian/German/Japanese equivalents of the word. 
  9. The red eyes are, obviously, meant to refer to Gilbert. Anyone else can technically be given red plot contacts and be substituted into that role. As for why a devout Catholic is in a cult… well, that cult was meant to be the equivalent of church in that AU, so… I guess that’s the closest thing to Catholicism we can get there.
  10. Regarding names, Kiku technically didn’t lie about the meaning of his own - it does carry symbolism for both bad (adversity, death, mourning, grief) and good (nobility, cheerfulness) in terms of flower languages, depending on which part of the world and what species you’re looking at. It is also a traditional girl’s name. Props to Japanese distraction techniques and not-straightforwardness.
  11. Feliciano is actually (traditionally) an Italian surname and not a given name (that's only in Spanish), but it does mean “happy”, as derived from the latin word “felix”.
  12. Ludwig means “famous warrior”. This would make sense in Hetalia context, considering that Germany is famous for his involvement in the World Wars, but without that context, it suddenly feels a little off - especially when applied to a child no older than ten. Why did Beethoven’s parents name him Ludwig of all things?
  13. Quetzalcoatl also means “feathered serpent” whereas Xolotl means “maze plant with two stalks”.
  14. Feliciano and Ludwig’s powers are left open to interpretation - whether it is uniquely theirs because of their involvement in the temple or if everyone in the world can do that is unknown.
  15. The ending is pretty much open ended, but I have some variations in mind. Variation one is the one where Ludwig dies as he should have, completely ignoring Feliciano and Kiku’s emotional aftermath. (It’s not his problem anymore, he’s too dead to deal with that.) Severity of what those two (and crow!Ludwig) do during that period of devastation is up to the reader. Variation two is the one where Feliciano reawakens in time to take away Ludwig’s darkness, with varying results depending on the reader. Either they all live happily ever after, or Feliciano dies for him (and turns into a crow). Variation 3 is the sad one where Ludwig dies, Feliciano dies as well thanks to either darkness or sadness overload, and Kiku dies from sadness overload/exhaustion. Then all three of them turn into crows, in some morbid semblance of a happily ever after. Version four is the one where Point 14 applies to Kiku, and all three of them share the darkness and nobody (important) dies for a long time. That’s pretty much all there is to it for now.
  16. According to the PV, the crows aren’t just crows. They’re these large things like twice the height of a human and they have sharp sharp teeth and eyes deader than Kiku’s. Honestly the very notion of a bird with teeth is scary enough, you're going to make them big too?! really, HitoYama?!



**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to EurtemocMaerd, WhimsicalRemedy, and silveryyy for proofreading the thing. RIP for your suffering in vague tense hell.


End file.
